The Joker's First Escapade
by beggars-would-ride
Summary: After the movie. Joker had to come from somewhere, right? Well, my musings suggest that Dr. Crane becomes Joker.


It had been months since Gotham's near-extinguishing by a small group of separatists with a God-complex. A young man softly trod the city's main drag. His hands slipped nonchalantly into the pants' pockets of his pinstripe suit, but a closer look—which no-one cared enough to award him—would have discovered the blue eyes set in the expressionless face to be on a frenzied quest.

All at once, these eyes settled, squinting at a young couple sitting at a table in an open-air restaurant. An excerpt of their heated conversation rode over the bustle of the main street.

"This..th-this is a joke, right? W-well, it's not funny. At all. I'm-"

"Hey now, I'm totally seri-"

"B-but, you can't just…just…up and leave me! We-"

"Waiter-"

"Stop it!"

"-check, please."

"Stop it right now!"

"I hope you enjoyed your lunch."

The young man in pinstripes pulled a hand from his right pocket. _Perfect_. The corners of his mouth twitched upward briefly, and the tip of his tongue ran across his lips as his eyes drank in the dramatic—_oh, females are _so_ dramatic_—picture of ire, disbelief, and misery. He started towards the table.

The young woman's spoon clattered onto her plate, upsetting the salad. She stared at the young man across from her calmly tipping an uncomfortably squirming waiter. He turned to her and seemed to grow slightly unsettled at the sight of her expression. He shook his head in exasperation and, taking in air, he opened his mouth, but, before he could extricate some words from the confusion, a cool voice broke in.

"Really, _sir_," it said, the respectful title dripping contempt, "how utterly un-chivalrous of you."

The young woman blinked as cool fingers were settled on her shoulder. She looked up, face contracted in distress, mouth hanging agape, into an effeminate, but most charming face. Dark hair framed both sparkling blue eyes and a certain intriguing vacancy. Then she buried her face in her hands and sobbed.

The blue eyes found the young man sitting across the table from their position at the girl's side. "Beast," he accused evenly.

The addressee grew angry. "This isn't your affair," he shouted.

"Oh, but it is," came the answer. "I make it my affair to save ladies from cretinous brutes." He squeezed the shoulder of the girl in question. "There, there, darling." She hiccupped and looked up in surprise at the pet name. "Oh, don't be surprised," he murmured to the whimpering young woman, "you know you're attractive." Her eyes looked down for reasons of both modesty and misery to find that a pocket-handkerchief had been pressed into her hand. "I can only guess at how radiant your smile would be." He clasped her free hand. "Let's see if we can't make those green eyes of yours smile, again."

As she was helped out of her seat, she stole one last glance at the young man who had just dismissed her. She placed the handkerchief to her mouth, wondering if she detected hurt buried deep in his expression. But a pinstriped arm drew her away, the words "Come with me, I'll make you smile," the only things her grief-dulled senses could find to lean on.

"We w-were g-getting m-m-married," she spluttered to her savior. "W-why would…he…" her words dissolved in tears.

Striped arms drew her in close, burying her face in the lapel of the jacket. "Shhh…" he murmured, waiting for the apathetic crowd to completely conceal them from the sight of the man left at the table, whose expression grew decidedly pained at the embrace; when this had occurred he swept the stricken woman into a small alleyway. "Sh…here, dear," he whispered hypnotically into her ear, releasing his grip. She dabbed her eyes clear and stared at her surroundings.

"Why-" she turned back to ask…

Then she saw a syringe.

Her wrist was seized in a tight grip by the same cool fingers that had previously been so comforting. She screamed as the needle was expertly plunged into her rapidly pulsating vein. "What…are…" her words petered out.

The young man came skidding around the corner as her face softened into a strangely artificial smile, her scream having summoned him from the desolate table. As he came charging toward them the violent grip on her wrist softened into an affectionate handhold, and the syringe was soundlessly stowed back in his right pants' pocket.

"What did you do to her, you-"

The blue eyes remained expressionless. "Ah! No name-calling, little boy. _You_ are the one who made her cry. I made her smile."

A giggle from the woman drew the young man's attention. He turned in time to see her pupils rapidly expand to completely blot out her irises (or "irisi" if you prefer). She giggled, again. Taking a breath, she choked on a fit of snickering, her eyes squeezed shut with inane mirth. Then her eyes burst open as she graduated to full-fledged laughter.

The young man looked at the creature in the pinstripe suit standing by his side. The being in question smiled, ungrasping the young woman's hand. She collapsed in a bout of gleeful howling.

"Rothana," cried the young man, falling to his knees to try and help her. _In vain, of course, _thought the deranged mind behind the blue eyes._ "Rothana," though. Hm. I even picked an essential subject with an interesting name. _The desperate young man caught her flailing hand and clasped it. "You," he screamed, looking up into…nothing. There was only a common playing card lying facedown in the villain's former place. Maniac laughter swirled about his head as the girl's body twisted and contorted.

"Rothana," he screamed. "I love you, Rothana!" Tears traversed his burning cheeks, but he didn't care.

"Rothana! I have cancer! That's why! I had to. That's why…"

She laughed harder.


End file.
